


White Direwolf

by pandizzy



Series: Jonsa Drabble Fest [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Little Kiddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:07:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandizzy/pseuds/pandizzy
Summary: Jon’s not allowed to have this sigil. He’s not a Stark and so he shouldn’t use his father’s sigil, he may carry in his arms, during a battle or when his father is in the middle of political meetings but he can never wear it, the direwolf proudly displayed on his chest.day 6: sigils





	White Direwolf

Jon looks at the banners around him, grey direwolves running around the snow, mocking him and his bastardness. He is quiet, too quiet for a boy of ten but his thoughts are loud in his head.

Jon’s not allowed to have this sigil. He’s not a Stark and so he shouldn’t use his father’s sigil, he may carry in his arms, during a battle or when his father is in the middle of political meetings but he can never wear it, the direwolf proudly displayed on his chest.

“What are you doing?” asks a small voice and Jon turns his head, seeing Sansa near him with her fiery red hair and her favorite doll in her arms. She’s alone, without her septa or her mother, and this must be why she’s bold enough to talk to him.

“I’m thinking,” he says.

Sansa rolls her eyes, the way Rob taught her a fortnight before, and she walks till she’s standing right next to him.

“I  _ know  _ you’re thinking, but what are you thinking?”

Jon doesn’t have to answer her, he realizes. He can say that she’s too young to hear it or just ignore her like she so easily does.

“I’m thinking of how father’s sigil can never be my own,” he answers anyway and it’s a like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Why not?” Sansa doesn’t seem to be mocking him, just curious.

“Because I’m a bastard, I don’t carry the Stark name like you do.”

Sansa didn’t answer him for quite some time. She bit her lip and stared at the banners as well, bending her head and rocking on her heels.

“If you are so upset, you should stop complaining and do something about it.” she says, not looking at him.

“What?” Jon asks, his voice laced with surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“Create a sigil.” Sansa says, turning her head to him. “Most bastards switch the colors of their father’s banner to show their blood but different status.”

Jon frowns, he can’t help but do it. He opens his mouth many times, trying to talk and not finding the exact words. When he settles for what to say, he feels like it isn’t right to define his feelings.

“Are you saying that I should have a white direwolf as my sigil?”

“Yes.” her voice is determined. “It suits you.”

She leaves then and is not until years later when he finds a white direwolf and claims it as his own, Jon realizes the truth in her words.


End file.
